


Heat

by Halxe



Category: Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: Angst, F/F, Seriously just angsty filth, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-19
Updated: 2018-12-19
Packaged: 2019-09-22 20:46:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 803
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17066807
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Halxe/pseuds/Halxe
Summary: Clary is a wildfire and Izzy welcomes the flames.





	Heat

**Author's Note:**

> So this be filth. Not Beta'd so there may be mistakes. Tell me what you think in le comments.

Red. 

Fiery, blazing, velvet red encasing around her, scorching beneath her skin and coiling around her throat as the outlines of voluptuous lips mark across it. The heat spreads molten through her body, arousing every sensation within, hazing her mind with its intoxication until she is as pliable to the hands grabbing at her waist as clay on a potters wheel and god how she moulds and melts beneath them. 

And then there is green. 

A forest of hunger glaring into her eyes as forceful as the fire spreading in her core with intent she has no interest extinguishing. 

So she surges forward, gasping into Clary’s mouth and welcomes the flames that lick into her own. 

“Fuck, you feel so good.”

The coils in her stomach wind tighter, coursing lower as Clary’s words coax through her mind. 

It takes all of her strength to remain standing against the vanity, her knees buckling with each sweep of silky tongue, but then steady hands wrap around her thighs, lifting her to sit on top of it before surging up her sides, squeezing her breasts, threading into her hair and igniting a wildfire as they pull. 

“Ahhh, _fuck!_ ”

Clary smiles against her throat, pulls again and nips at the skin beneath her lips. 

Isabelle clutches at her back, gripping her nails into the fabric of Clary’s top as she moans, pure pleasure engulfing her senses. 

“Clary... please.”

It comes out as a whine, but she is too far gone to care, her mind consumed by the warmth. 

Clary halts, eyes drawing back to brown once again. Their breaths mingle into one, chests heaving, heat blazing. 

Her dress is tugged over her hips before she can blink and then Clary is _there._ Tracing fingertips over pulsing thighs, drinking in each hitch of breath and twitch of Isabelle’s throat as they draw nearer. 

The fire flares as soft fingers circle her opening, altering between light and firm as they wind Izzy around them. 

It gurgles up her throat, escaping as a whine as her legs wrap around Clary’s waist, forcing her closer. Yet Clary continues her pace, bringing her lips further down Izzy’s throat and burning into the flesh of her breasts as she bites and sucks. 

She drags her fingers up along Izzy’s folds, skirting around the edges of her clit but never quite touching. It drives her insane with a want that rapidly fuels into desperation. Her hand lunges to the back of Clary’s head, fisting at her hair and pulling back until Clary’s eyes bore into her own, the fire within them as intense as the red waves framing Clary’s face. 

_“Fuck me.”_

And, god, she does. 

Clary’s fingers fill inside her, pumping and curling against her walls and Izzy grinds into each thrust with unrestrained fervour. 

Her lips work back up Izzy’s neck, biting and sucking but never leaving a mark. Izzy craves for her to. For deep dark blotches to mar every inch of her skin, for Clary’s mouth to claim her body as rigourously as she’s claimed her heart and for that ownership to be broadcast for the world to see. But she knows that can’t happen. 

So, she pulls Clary closer, melding their bodies until they are one, pushing and pulling with each thrust and grind and lick and bite until they are a force of heat dilating back and forth, bristling and burning with want and need. 

Clary travels further up, tracing her lips across her jawline before bringing them to her ear and sucking the earlobe into her mouth, tugging as her fingers pump harder. She pulls back, her lips lightly grazing Izzy’s ear, whispers “Come.” Isabelle erupts.

And Clary is gone. 

The ice of the air seeps rapidly into her bones, spreading out, extinguishing the flames eating at her insides. The absence feels much closer to loss than relief. 

Her chest still heaves with gasping breaths but the intake of oxygen only serves to flood the flames rather than feed them and when the heat is gone, her breaths even and mind clear, she feels the quiet of the room blaring out, prominent and taunting. 

Sliding off the vanity, she picks the red lipstick tube off the floor and places it back into the holder. She looks at the mirror for a moment, scrutinising the girl held within it; her crumpled dress, tangled hair and sorrowful eyes. Slowly, she wipes the marks from her neck, reties her hair and adjusts her dress to look presentable. She breathes in deep, exhales the pain in her chest, and heads back out to the party. 

And when she sees Clary kissing Jace in the training room the morning after, that ice freezes across her chest until the last embers burning in her heart give out and she succumbs to the frost.


End file.
